


Human Beings

by rosewitchx



Series: the asgardian vault of perpetually unfinished fics [2]
Category: Rick and Morty, Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Canon Divergent, Episode: s03e01 The Rickshank Rickdemption, Implied/Referenced Torture, Major Character Injury, Mentions of gravity falls, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Episode: s05e01-04 Wanted, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Rick, Renegade Pearl, Rick Sanchez Has A Heart, WHY DID I WRITE THIS AGAIN, i swear im gonna continue this pls give me some time, maaaaaybe lapis if it comes to it, pearl totally hung out with rick and the nerd squad back in the day, someone save these kids please?????, steven and morty bond over trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2018-12-12 23:21:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11747295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosewitchx/pseuds/rosewitchx
Summary: "H-hey, don't say that," Morty said, hurriedly. "W-we'll figure it out."Steven wiped the tears off of his eyes a little too roughly before looking towards Morty, obviously holding back the need to weep. And then, he nodded.Everything was uncertain, and they were alone.But they had each other. A half-alien warrior and the grandchild of the smartest being alive.They'd figure it out.-Two kids find themselves prisoners in the Gem Homeworld. Two old friends try to get them back.





	1. if there’s any truth in the universe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's not his mom, the rebel leader. He's not just a human cloaking device. They're not like anyone else.

"They're humans," the Agate said to her Peridot companionship. "What could they possibly do against Homeworld technology?"

The Peridot squinted at the two humans inside the prison cell. The hybrid one, the one her Diamonds had confused with the Rose Quartz, had tentatively crawled towards the other one, taller than him but still just a child. The hybrid seemed to be hurt; couldn't move his leg properly. The other one wasn't even conscious. Still, this seemed like a bad idea. Anyone with half a brain would see that.

Then again, the Peridot thought, sighing, Agates don't usually have half a brain.

"Moss," Peridot insisted, knowing it was futile, "we're talking about technology that has been only tested in Gems. Not humans. And one of them isn't even entirely human! This is a terrible idea."

"Nonsense." Moss Agate waved off Peridot's worries. "Don't you trust your work, 6XH?"

The smaller Gem groaned at this, fixing her five-sided hair in an attempt to calm herself down and failing miserably. She knew there wouldn't be any convincing Moss. All she could do, as a Peridot, was follow orders.

She wanted to kick the Agate in the face.

"Very well, but if this goes wrong, blame 7HG." 6XH pressed the panel next to the cell, closing it with a destabilizing wall. She then faced towards the Agate, so obviously annoyed. "And you better bring some Citrines to guard these two."

"Fair enough."

The Agate seemed satisfied, finally, so the two Gems left the area. It would take a while for anyone else to arrive, but they had no way of getting out like this.

No, he wasn't leaving the other kid. Maybe he didn't even know his name, but that wasn't important, because he was not going to let a human rot in Homeworld alone.

"Please wake up soon," Steven muttered. He leaned against the wall, finally resting his broken leg. It was definitely broken; the Jasper that had pulled him there hadn't been gentle. At all. He'd managed to keep the cries of pain at a minimum, even as he'd pushed himself towards the other boy. He seemed to be even worse: he was bleeding over his right eye, maybe there even was some damage to it, and he was bruised from head to toe. And he was knocked out cold. Great.

Carefully, he licked his own palm, and pressed it against the boy's most obvious wound. It closed itself slowly, but he still wouldn't wake up. Sighing, Steven then proceeded to heal his own leg; it didn't do much, but at least it didn't make him want to scream whenever he moved it anymore.

Suddenly he felt very tired. The Citrines, three for the time being, had arrived already, and were guarding the entrance, golden spears drawn out. There was no way out now. Rubbing his face, he curled himself into a ball, a little apart from the other kid, before suppressing a sob.

He didn't know where Lars had ended up. After their first escape, they had gotten separated at the Kindergarten: when a group of Amethysts had found them while scouting the area, Steven had surrendered, creating a distraction and allowing the Off Colors to flee. Of course, that meant he was now prisoner, with no way out. He hoped they were all safe.

 _Dad,_ he thought then. He must've been so scared. And the Gems too. In the end, had it made any difference? They'd probably take him to the Zoo now. Or somewhere else, somewhere  _worse._ He didn't know. Everything seemed so uncertain. If only he had Future Vision to know what would happen.

And thinking about home, Steven Universe let himself fall asleep for the first time in a while.

 

* * *

 

Morty woke up to a crimson blur.

Everything spun around him, even though he wasn't moving; he was laying against something  _hard_ , maybe a wall. Yeah, a wall. He groaned. His whole body ached and he was  _starving._

He closed his eyes for a while, trying to make everything stop moving or he seriously was going to throw up. After a moment, he opened them up again. Everything felt a little better.

The world wasn't red, he realized, but  _tinted_ red. He was in some sort of prison, but the 'gate' was just a wall of crimson light. There was also blood in the floor, immediately next to him, and a boy younger than him laid asleep after it.

Morty figured he'd passed out, but from what? His memories were foggy. He'd been with Rick on a mission. They were going to retrieve some... artifact, from the planet where they were going. They even painted themselves weird colors; he'd been yellow, and Rick blue. But they'd been caught and outnumbered easily. They'd put up a fight, but the humanoid aliens regenerated so fast, and there were so many—

One of them had hit him in the head.

Recoiling at the memory, he glanced outside. Guarding the cell were three yellow-looking aliens — Gems, Rick had called them Gems. Morty recognized them as the ones guarding the artifact they'd gone to steal.

He looked again inside the cell.

Rick wasn't there. But maybe— maybe the kid there knew where they'd taken him.

Slowly, he shook the kid's shoulder; he didn't want to startle him. He woke up soon enough, sitting upright and staring at Morty sluggishly for a few moments before realizing his cellmate was finally awake.

He jerked away in surprise. "Ah!," the kid said, "you're awake."

"You were— you were the one sleeping just now," Morty noted.

"I mean," the kid started rambling, "you were unconscious, and bleeding, and I didn't know if my healing powers would work at all because they didn't do much to me and I didn't really ask you permission—"

"Whoa, man, s-slow down. Uh, what's your name?"

"Sorry. I'm Steven."

"I'm Morty."

"How did you— what are you doing here?," the smaller one asked. "Did they kidnap you?"

"No, uh— I was with Rick, we were gonna steal something, b-but they found out."

"What?" Steven blinked, not believing what he'd just heard. "But— how did you even get here?"

"On a spaceship,  _obviously._ "

"But no one has spaceships."

"Rick does. S-sometimes he lets me drive it, too."

Steven nodded, thinking for a moment, and then asked "who's Rick?"

"He's my grandpa," he said. Morty frowned softly. "He probably got out and left."

"I don't think he would," Steven intervened quickly, putting a hand on Morty's shoulder. The kid winced, but said nothing; he still was in pain. "You seem nice. Why would he?"

"Too much w-work, I-Iguess. He can just grab another me and move on. He-he's probably done it before."

"Wait, what do you mean?"

Morty chuckled. He looked away from Steven's gaze, sighing. "There's tons of me."

"That doesn't mean you're  _replaceable_!"

"To Rick it does."

 

* * *

 

 

"But w-what are  _you_ doing here?"

Steven blinked his eyes open, releasing a soft yawn. He'd almost fallen asleep again. They had only talked for about half an hour, Morty telling him about Rick and Summer, about their adventures and the situation at home, before Steven broke down crying, struck by a sudden panic attack. Morty had just managed to calm him down, getting him drowsy again, when he spoke again, startling him.

"What?," Steven muttered, not having understood the question entirely. Morty repeated himself, and the smaller kid's face fell. "Ah... it's a long story."

"We have time, r-right?" Morty nudged his shoulder gently, encouraging him to talk. Steven nodded.

"I— um... okay. I'm half Gem, right?" He lifted his torn-up shirt up, just enough to show off the pink gemstone embedded in his bellybutton. Morty looked at it in awe before Steven hid it again. "And the Gems here thought I was my mom. She was a war criminal, sorta. And she— may have shattered a Diamond? Or not? But now I'm stuck here."

"Huh." Morty nodded at him to continue.

"Yeah. They were going to take humans to the Zoo, but I surrendered. They still took Lars though. I don't know— if he's okay." Steven rubbed his face, stressed out. "He died and everything. It sucked. But I brought him back!," he quickly added after seeing the look on Morty's face, "he's just out there and not home. Like us."

Silence. Morty spoke after a while with a quiet "that's r-rough, buddy." Steven nodded.

"Sorry."

"What for?"

"We're stuck here. We probably won't even get a trial. Humans don't have any rights here, and I'm not even  _human_." Steven held his knees close to his chest, grimacing at the slight discomfort thst had sprung from his wounded leg. "And no one'll come for us, probably."

"Y-you don't kn—"

"It's true," Steven continued. "Even if they wanted to— there's no ship on Earth that could get here before we end up dead. We're  _already_  dead."

Oh no. He was going to cry again. Morty frowned when the child began sobbing again. He knew it was understandable, sure, the kid was maybe nine.

"H-hey, don't say that," Morty said, hurriedly. "W-we'll figure it out."

Steven wiped the tears off of his eyes a little too roughly before looking towards Morty, obviously holding back the need to weep. And then, he nodded.

Everything was uncertain, and they were alone.

But they had each other. A half-alien warrior and the grandchild of the smartest being alive.

They'd figure it out.


	2. directionless, pathetic, clinging things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their kids were lightyears away, but there's nothing they wouldn't do for them.

Steven was gone.

Pearl and Peridot worked on the dropship where the Centipeetles lived. They tried their best to fix the ancient engines, so close to what Pearl had experience in but so damaged not even Peridot knew what to do.

The others helped, too. Lapis had even thought of  _flying_ to Homeworld, but by the time she arrived it might just be too late. Amethyst and Garnet kept searching around for materials, scavenging whatever they could. But maybe it was impossible; Earth technology was just too archaic for it to work.

There was no way they'd get that dropship to fly.

And they were losing time.

One of those sleepless nights, while   
examining the ancient blueprints of the Era 1 vessel and trying to figure out  _how in the stars_ she was going to get it airborne, she heard a buzz. It was  _very_ remotely familiar, almost unknown by now, but Pearl turned around anyway.

A man on his fifties, maybe early sixties, walked out of the green portal that had appeared on the barn's outside. His lab coat was dirty and stained with all kinds of fluids (Pearl didn't really wanna know what they were), and he swung a flask around as he stumbled against the wall. The man slid a small, gun-like device into his coat, and looked up.

No way.

"Rick?" Pearl squinted at the man, momentarily walking away from the blueprints. "What are you doing here?"

"I - ugh - I need your help, P-pearl," Sanchez stuttered; he was obviously drunk. Again. She scowled when his breath reached her face. "I need you."

"I'm sorry, but I'm busy right now. I can't help you—"

"Please, Pearl. It's— it's M-morty," he begged. She sighed, looking at him for once. He looked absolutely terrible, even worse than when he'd first broken up with Unity, even worse than when Diane—

"What happened this time?" She let him sit on her stool, afraid he'd trip over something and ruin her work. It had been like, twenty years since they had last seen each other, but they still kept in touch through the interdimensional mail service Mailman Rick kept.

She hadn't thought Rick would be looking so bad.

Rick took a swig from his flask, tossing away the empty thing before it bothered him too much. It landed near the corn fields. "You h-have alcohol?," he asked. Pearl shook her head.

"You should stop drinking for now."

He glared at her, like she'd said some stupid nonsense again, like back during the nineties. He just picked up a device from the table, eyeing the blueprints quickly before starting to tinker with the damn thing.

"Morty and I-I-we were going to steal some shit from your homeword— or something—" Rick burped; Pearl protested at it "—I guess. He got-c-captured."

Pearl didn't reply for a while. She just looked at him as he tried to pry the box open, then sighed. "You shouldn't be endangering him like that, but I know you won't listen to me."

"Cut the c-c-crap, Pearl—you do the same fucking shit to Steven."

She flinched at this. They didn't talk after that; she returned to her work, holding back her tears, while Rick watched.

Then he spoke. "Going to space?"

She didn't reply.

"Hell, P-pearl. Thought you were okay with being—" another burp (seriously Rick?) "—on Earth. Guess you c-can't be a space lesbian here, huh."

She glared at him.

"Geez Pearl, that— that was a joke, Pearl."

Pearl rubbed her face, suddenly exhausted. Rick certainly knew how to drain all her energy. He'd tried to, once, back when they'd first met; he'd ended up with a broken arm. "They took Steven, too."

"H-huh?"

"I'll help you, if you help me."

Rick jumped at this. "Y-y-you will?"

"Yes. But I need you sober. Come back when you're not drunk."

"Ugh. Can I- Can I crash at the T-temple? Beth's — she'll k-kill me if I d-don't have Morty."

Pearl sighed yet again. "Sure, Rick. I'll see you at dawn. You could stay at the barn too."

"Okay, b-but— you better help me Pearl." Rick stood up, dizzy.

"Try not to throw up while you're warping," Pearl suggested as the man ignored the barn and continued towards the closest warp pad.

"Sure f-fucking thing," he yelled before warping to the temple. Pearl stood there for a moment before continuing her work.

The next day, Rick showed up at the barn, notably sober but still looking terrible. It seemed as if the alcohol had taken away the life from him.

"What's up," he said, hands shoved inside his pockets. Pearl waved at him.

There was another Gem next to her, a short green one. It squinted at Rick like he was some sort of specimen. "Pearl, who is this?," she said, her nasal voice reflecting her disgust towards the human.

Rick smirked, looking at Pearl. "What the fuck, Pearl, is that a fucking gremlim?" The other Gem flinched before a string of curses — were those curses? — left her mouth.

Pearl smiled, but didn't reply. "Rick, this is Peridot. Peridot, this is Rick Sanchez. We used to work together for a while."

"Pearl, your association with this 'Rick' raises more questions than it answers."

"Last time I checked, Pearl didn't have a Doritos and Mt Dew collab as a pet."

"You two get along. Rick, if you want our help, you'll have to help us."

"Yeah. You're uh— fixing a ship, right."

"Please check the blueprints and offer any insight you might have," Pearl suggested, and Rick followed suit.

Peridot, meanwhile, pulled at Pearl's arm. "Pearl, he might be an old 'friend', but why are you trusting him with this? He's just a human."

"There's a lot you don't know about the universe, and about me." Pearl grinned. "He's the smartest man I know."

"Geez, don't suck my dick too hard, Pearl," Rick chuckled. "This is a really fucking old ship."

"It's all we have, Rick," Pearl said.

"It's okay I guess. We'll just have to do— a little extra work. Do you have celsium?"

"We can get some." Pearl nudged at Peridot's shoulder and the green Gem headed towards the barn.

"There's a second engine room here," Rick pointed out after a while. "Did you check that out?"

"Yes, but there was not much to work with either. It seems the ship has been scavenged for parts across the ages."

"Shit. Do you have plans for an engine? We could make a smaller version of the ship."

"We tried that too, but we can't figure out how to make it smaller  _and_  how to make it run at FTL speed," Pearl explained.

"Hm."

Silence.

"How's Ford?," Pearl asked. "Still running away?"

"Nah, his nephews kicked Bill's balls." Sanchez smirked at the memory of Ford telling him that. "He's traveling with Stanley now."

"That's nice. How about Birdperson? Haven't heard of him in a while. Or Squanchy."

Rick tensed up. He looked away from the blueprints, and into Pearl's eyes. "They're dead," he said. "The Federation fucks got them."

"Oh." Pearl didn't say anything else.

Silence again. Rick shied away into the blueprints once more.

"Did you try using palladium instead of tungsten?," Rick said then. Pearl nodded.

"We just can't get the energy to remain concentrated long enough to create a vacuum-propulsion."

"An EM Drive, huh."

"That's what Homeworld uses, but better. Earth's current ones won't cut it."

"Well, we're in for a joyride, P."

And with that, they got back to work.

They had to.

_For Steven's sake._

_And for Morty's._

They had to. They had to hurry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is literally the single worst chapter ive written since 2013. sue me. next up: angst and trauma


	3. allergic to dipshits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steven and Morty decide to share their stories. Steven goes first.

Steven tells him he's a Gem hybrid, but Morty already knew that. Steven's dad is a rockstar. Steven's mom was the leader of the Gem Rebellion, Rose Quartz, who believed all life was beautiful and worth protecting. Who resurrected lions and shielded her friends from harm. Who decided to have him for some reason he still didn't comprehend.

Rose Quartz gave up her life to have Steven. Steven says, later and in a whisper, that he wishes she hadn't done so. Morty pretends he didn't hear it.

Rose Quartz rebelled against the Gem Homeworld. Rick had told him this already, said it was basic knowledge, called him stupid for not knowing the history of some planet he didn't even know existed. She'd decided to protect humanity and Earth itself from the Diamond Authority. She'd started a war.

Steven tells Morty his mom might have shattered a Diamond. Steven tells him he's not sure of anything anymore.

"I wish no one kept stuff from me," Steven says. "It'd make things easier."

When asked, Steven tells Morty he didn't always have powers. They started appearing about a year ago, when he first summoned his mother's shield. He just learned of one like, the day before (Morty doesn't ask what it was; Steven's face is more than enough). Steven tells him it's weird, because he never knows what might happen, when a new power might come up.

Steven tells him all he can do. He can summon a shield, the one his mother used before him. He can bubble other things and himself. He can float if he jumps really high. He can heal people with his spit, and fix stuff too. He can heal himself too — he doesn't tell him how he figured that one out. He can feel what others feel, see what others see: Morty calls him an empath. Steven chuckles at it.

Steven tells him he's been living with three Gems ever since he was little. He talks of Pearl, Amethyst and Garnet fondly; he describes the first one as the smartest person he's ever met, besides maybe Peridot. She can build spaceships. She can dance, she can fight. She's caring, she's tough, she's a  _rebel._ Garnet, instead, is more of a serious leader than the emotional Pearl. She's brave, and isn't afraid of being herself; she's smart too, and always thinks before she acts. Amethyst is like his sister. They're always sneaking around, doing fun stuff; she always covers up for him when he does things he's not supposed to. Morty tilts his head when he talks of Smoky Quartz, not really understanding it, but decides to roll with it. They've all been through a lot, Steven says.

Steven says he thought they were like, super heroes or something. When he was little. He wanted to be like them so badly. And now he was in space prison. Look where that got him.

Morty reminds him it's not his fault. Steven shrugs at him, but replies with a not-very-convincing "I know."

Steven tells Morty the war was bad. It's not like he was  _there_ , he says still, but he's seen the scars on other Gems. When he met Lapis, she was cracked and wanted to run away. She had been a war prisoner for  _thousands_ of years. He'd felt so horrible after that. And that wasn't even accounting  _Jasper,_ who'd seen her Diamond  _break,_ who'd fought in the war, who'd despised Rose Quartz so much her rage ended up hurting Steven instead. That wasn't accounting Eyeball, who'd adored her Diamond too; that wasn't accounting the Diamonds themselves, all of Homeworld, their loss and their incapability to mourn.

Rose Quartz had done that, and he was the one paying for it.

He's not angry, Steven insists, he just wishes his mom was there to fix everything instead of him. He's always making mistakes and screwing everything up. His mom probably would have solved every conflict without collateral damage. He's not angry. Morty thinks he's got every right to be.

Steven remembers when he was just so  _excited_ to do Gem stuff. He remembers, in a blur, the absolute joy he'd feel when learning from the Gems, when he was  _helpful_ and  _focused_ and could do good. He doesn't know if good means right anymore. He doesn't know anything,  _he's just a kid, he wants to go home, he misses everyone, his dad, connie, the gems—_

Steven's been in space before, he says when Morty steers away from the previous subject. He went to the Moon twice. Morty has never been there, so Steven telling him about the strange base on the satellite's surface, about the craters dotting the rocky sphere, has Morty's eyes gleaming with curiosity. He's also been to— uh, Saturn? He's not sure. There was a Gem facility there, a Zoo, where they'd taken his dad (the rockstar, Morty reminds himself), so they'd gone there.

They take a break. Steven's still tired, and Morty really wants to sleep. They have no way of telling the time inside the prison cell, but Morty's watch, though maybe inaccurate by now, told them it was close to midnight. They sleep for a while; when they're both up again, the watch's still stuck at 12.

Steven tells him a Gem had come to Earth. He's already told him this, but only superficially, so he wants to make it clear: he surrendered. The Gem, Aquamarine, had come with a huge fusion Gem, a Topaz. They'd been kidnapping humans, his friends, to take them to the Zoo around maybe-Saturn. He'd tried to just defeat the Gems, but they were just too strong; not even Alexandrite could beat them. Morty didn't really know who that was, but the way Steven spoke of her gave him an idea.

So he'd surrendered. Outed himself as Rose Quartz, even though he wasn't his mom, even though he'd  _just_  come to terms with it— he had to  _surrender_ to what was basically a death sentence.

And then, he'd gone on trial, against the Diamonds themselves. They were angry, they wanted to know what had happened so desperately. He'd tried to keep up the 'I'm Rose Quartz' lie for as long as humanly possible, but he couldn't know what had happened, he hadn't even been there! And— and then Zircon had  _actually accused them of shattering Pink_ and Steven literally almost got killed. It wasn't until White Diamond arrived that she'd sorted out the problem, blowing off his cover in the process and revealing his real identity as a hybrid. He'd escaped with Lars, only to be captured shortly after. And now he's in prison, waiting for death.

He's not angry. He really isn't. It's what had to be done. Even if he'll never see his home again— even if  _Lars_  is stranded there too, and it's his fault—

"Lars," he'd whimpered, so  _frustrated_ and  _tired,_ trying to hold back his tears again. He was another subject entirely. He'd  _died_  on a foreign planet. He'd been brought  _back to life against his will,_ turned into a stars-damned  _zombie,_ then had to run away and become a fugitive. And it was all his fault, just like everything else!

Morty just shakes his head. "That's n-not true. Y-you couldn't have k-known they'd come. It's not y-your fault y-your mom did those things."

Steven sighs, hiding his face between his knees. "I guess," he mutters. "But that's all, I think. What about you?"

Morty didn't get to tell him his story, though.

Because a huge Gem lady, green in color, unlocked the cell and grabbed Steven without much trouble. The boy struggled under her grasp, and Morty tried to stand up for him, shortly before he was kicked against the wall and left alone in the cell.

"Help—!," he heard, a strangled, panicked cry, before a sickening crack travelled through the corridors and Morty was left in solitude and silence.


	4. there's a lot you don't know about me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Pearl said she'd once been "breaking every rule, taking on the authorities", she meant it.

Pearl felt a lot of things a Pearl should not feel.

She should be over this already: she's not in Homeworld anymore. She's not even at war. She can feel however she wants to.

But that didn't help the sensation go away.

A Pearl should not feel desire, nor jealousy. A Pearl should not act on these feelings. A Pearl should only feel devotion and should be extremely loyal.

A Pearl should just stand still and look pretty.

Well, not this Pearl.

She was  _not_ going to watch this time.

Pearl turned away from the stage where  _Greg_  was currently singing some stupid, star-struck dueto with Rose. She grinned at herself, a little proud of her own little rebellion.

A Pearl should not be prideful. A Pearl should not be petty.

She walked away from them and mixed into the crowd. No one would notice her as she basically fled the show. Rose certainly didn't.

A Pearl should not want attention.

The crowd grew less and less dense as she walked through it. Soon she'd reached the edge of the old house where the party was hosted; Greg's  _horrible_ and  _outdated_ van stood against the flock of newer, prettier vehicles. She leaned against it, letting out a deep sigh. The thing she wanted the most was to get away from that hellish place. Even though Amethyst and Garnet seemed to be having fun, Pearl just didn't see the appeal.

"Havin' fun?"

Pearl glanced towards the man that had appeared from her right. The thing that stood out the most from him was his pale-blue hair. Pearl hadn't realized humans could come with blue hair. It was slicked back carelessly, and he wore a relaxed smile and a lab coat; his eyes gleamed happily under the effects of alcohol. He held two red cups on his hands and offered one to the Gem.

"No, thank you," she replied, "I don't drink."

"Alright, geez. Just makin' sure you were having a good time." The man leaned against the van as well, taking a gulp from the cup on his right and glancing at Pearl. "I'm Rick."

"...Pearl." She eyed the man — Rick — suspiciously. He didn't look like he belonged in the crowd. Just like her. They stood out like two sore thumbs: a literal scientist with a very literal labcoat and a pastel-colored alien with leg warmers within a crowd of punks.

"Say Pearl," he said, almost disinterested, "wanna get out of this shitfest?"

"Oh no," she quickly denied the offer. "I shouldn't." She knew how humans could act under the influence of substances like alcohol. She just had to look at Greg, a quick glance from the other side of the yard, to convince herself of this fact: a tipsy Mr. Universe was attempting to kiss Rose on-stage while the drunken audience cheered on.

Gross.

"We'll be back before that chick notices," Rick smirked. She turned towards him so quickly her neck would've snapped, were she human. The man shrugged, taking another gulp at her cup, emptying it. "What? I recognize a space lesbian when I see one."

"I'm not a—" Pearl's words died in her throat.  _Of course she was,_ at least according to Earth's standards. "I don't care what  _she_ has to say."

"Then why don't you come?," Rick insisted. "We'll go somewhere cooler. Us two, and Squanchy and BP, it'll be sick."

A Pearl should not make excuses.

"I can't, really. My friends tend to go out of control under the effects of alcoholic substances. I need to watch out for them."

"Like you're watching out for Mrs. Marshmallow there?"

Pearl looked at the stage once more.

Greg had succeeded and now the crowd was enjoying the view: the two of them making out.

A Pearl should not—  _feel_ so enraged and disgusted and  _betrayed_ — and— and—

"You know what?," she said, looking away and grabbing Rick's arm a little too strongly, "let's go somewhere else."

The man grinned. He crushed the empty cup on his hand, letting it fall to the ground, and guided the Gem towards his ship. "Sure thing, p-princess."

* * *

Pearl found herself storing the jacket and jeans inside her Gem. She stopped herself as she slid the jacket in.

Why had she grown attached to the modifiers? They were useless to her. She didn't  _need_ them. Why did the smell of alcohol and alien worlds make her feel so  _happy_? It didn't make sense. It couldn't make sense!

She held onto the jacket for a little longer.

It didn't have to make sense. Nothing on that stars-forsaken planet made any sense. Both Rick and her knew it, and struggled against it; at least he had  _fun_ while at it. Why couldn't she have some fun too?

Not even Rose made sense anymore. Chattering around about humans all the time, about how they could change and grow and choose and  _oh_ how remarkable it was, how natural it came to them. Pearl didn't understand what she saw in them. Rick said, later and only to Pearl, "she's fuckin' nuts. Humans are pieces of shit conditioned by their shit social rules."

But Rick, somehow, made a little more sense than the rest of Earth. And she held tightly onto the little logic he brought into her life, storing it into her Gem.

* * *

"You c-called, I came —  _burp —_ princess."

Pearl closed the passenger door of Rick's ship as he took off again, avoiding eye contact. Rick found it strange.

"Everything okay?," he asked, after taking a swig from his flask. Pearl didn't reply, instead looking out of the window. "Ouch, ignoring me? Dick move, P."

She seemed to snap out of it after that. Pearl rubbed her eyes softly, sighing. "Sorry, Rick. It's just— it's been a long day."

He offered her his flask for what had to be the millionth time since they'd known each other. "Join the club," he said.

"You know I don't drink, Rick," she sighed, but still took the flask. Rick raised an eyebrow at this.

"Y-you're really gonna try it?"

"I'll have you know, I was a rebel once." The second the liquor touched her tongue she wanted to spit it, but she swallowed both her disgust and the pure vodka.

Rick clapped at her. "Can't believe I lived to see this day! Fucking finally."

"Yeah, whatever." Pearl sighed again. "Can we just get as far away as possible from this planet?"

"Sure." Rick tried to stabilize himself against the steering wheel ( _maaaaaaybe he shouldn't drive while drunk but that's just the way the news goes_ ) and started speeding past planets and star systems. Neither said anything for a while, and it was okay; they knew how each other worked. Rick didn't talk about his problems, and neither did Pearl. They didn't bug each other about them.

Pearl sipped some more from the flask, grimacing at the strong flavor but certainly not as shocked as the first time. She looked away, into the stars, before Rick snatched the flask away from her and finished drinking its contents.

"She didn't tell us," Pearl suddenly said.

Rick glanced at her. She'd continue, surely, so he didn't interrupt.

"She lied to us, Rick. For five months." Pearl looked into Rick's eyes for a moment. Her own were overflowing with tears. "She only told us because Garnet saw it coming."

"Rose?"

"Yeah." Pearl sniffled, a resigned/angry look on her face. "She always does what she wants. She never thinks of anyone else— it hurts, Rick."

Rick leaned against the seat, burping before pulling a beer from under the seat and opening it for Pearl. He then took another one for him and drunk from it. "That's how s-she is. What —  _burp_ — what did she even t-tell you, anyway."

Pearl took a small sip from the beer and chuckled. "She's having a kid with  _Greg._ "

"Oh, man. Pearl, I'm so sorry."

"Cut it, Rick." She rubbed her face with both her hands, holding the beer momentarily between her thighs.

"Want some— advice?"

"Sure."

Rick looked into her eyes, taking a deep gulp from his can. "Don't think about it."

* * *

Pearl's lips tasted too much like tequila to be healthy.

Even though she was immortal or whatever, Rick knew that much alcohol had an effect on her. She didn't seem to mind much, straddling him against the old coach in Ford's cabin while the old lunatic was gone.

Rick didn't blame her. The love of her life had just died or something, replaced with an annoying, loud baby. That's why you stick to science, he'd told her earlier in an attempt to make her feel better. No attachments, only blowing shit up.

He felt his face getting wet, but he wasn't crying. Was he? He wasn't. He verified. It was Pearl, obviously. So emotional. He didn't call her out on it. He just let her do her thing.

As long as she didn't think about it, she'd be fine.

* * *

Later, when he gave her a ride back home and the effects of the liquor were fading off from her, Pearl muttered, looking out of the window, "I'm never, ever drinking _anything_ again."

Rick shrugged and said no more.

* * *

Pearl sent him a postcard attached to a photo of a small kid.  _He has her laugh,_ the letter said.

Rick stashed it on the ship's door's small compartment, next to the picture of his own granddaughter and grandson, before taking off.

* * *

The last postcard came seven years later.  _I'm scared Steven will hate us if he ever finds out about Rose. He's grown so much already, he's so much like her, and what if he doesn't like that?_

Well, he couldn't argue with that. Rick glanced at Morty, waiting for him inside the ship, and he stuffed the postcard inside his labcoat before entering and taking the wheel.

Keeping secrets is bad, but sometimes that's all you can do.

You just don't think about it.


	5. rise above, focus on science

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steven plans. Morty acts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long wait. it's been one hell of a week and i haven't been able to concentrate much. :s  
> also, the new r&m episodes are consuming my laifu.

At first, Morty waited for Steven to return. The cell was silent, cold, and gave him room to think.

He thought, at first, of his sister, his parents. He felt homesick, wanted to go back so badly, cuddle against his family in the couch. Of course, he knew that was no more but an illusion; his dad wasn't home anymore, his mom was just a copy of Rick by that point. Summer was... well, coping somewhere else, unhealthily, probably.

Rick himself was another matter entirely. Alcoholic, reckless, suicidal, self-destructive. Manipulating his entire family into submission. Doing things to avoid doing things. He caught himself starting to cry; he quickly wiped his tears away.

Rick had abandoned him.

_"You're dumb as I am smart."_

Like, like he was nothing.

_"Morty, you fucking idiot."_

Like he was as replaceable as every other Rick had said.

Morty decided to stop thinking about it. He looked at himself, all bruises and healing wounds, but didn't feel anything other than a slight discomfort. He'd had it worse before.

He must have fallen asleep while thinking about it, though, because he's jerked awake by the sudden buzz of the cell door's opening. The huge green Gem tossed Steven into the prison again; she was escorted by a smaller, yet still green Gem. They locked the cell again before leaving.

Steven wasn't moving. A few moments passed before Morty dared speak. "S-steven?," he muttered, crawling to the kid and shaking him by the shoulder. Steven didn't reply, staring blankly at him for a while; he still was breathing, at the very least. It was only after Morty called his name again that he seemed to react.

Steven began crying.

Oh geez.

* * *

Whatever they'd done to Steven, he hadn't talked about it, which gave Morty mixed emotions. For one, he felt thankful, as he had no idea of what he should say to make him feel better and would rather avoid the awkwardness of it all, but on the other hand, if Steven didn't even want to  _talk_ about it, what  _had_ they done to him?

The thought scared Morty.

Their days went on like that. Steven disappeared for nights on end, before being returned with a blank stare and shaky breath. He never said a word about what they did to him. He barely even spoke, and every time he did it was nonsense, cries for help, desperate "I can't do this anymore"s and "please, no more"s. Morty awaited, in silence, his return every night, and then comforted the kid, crying himself out when he'd fallen asleep. They fed them, of course, but he didn't even know why they were still alive.

Until one night(? Was it night? Maybe) Steven spoke. His chest rose and fell steadily, and he seemed unusually focused.

He said, voice barely a whisper, lips not moving, "we have to get out of here." His throat was raw and coarse, probably from screaming and crying continuously.

Morty didn't say anything. He looked at Steven, concerned. Then, he spoke. "We don't even know where we are. Or how to get out."

Steven nodded, slowly, before falling asleep. Morty didn't know what to make of it, really, but didn't have anything else to do besides going to sleep himself or waking his partner up (which he'd learned the hard way was a generally bad idea).

The next time they saw each other was maybe two days later. Steven said, as soon as he could force himself to speak, "I know how to send a message."

Morty glanced at him. The phrase had been clear as day, if maybe a little rough, in the cold silence of the cell, but still, he couldn't believe it.

"You'll have to do it," Steven said, after waiting for a reply that didn't come his way. "When they take me, there's less security here. It's your only chance."

Steven explained it, then. He'd seen a Pearl do it, when he'd been——  _questioned,_ he says, for information. There were panels all across the facility they were in. He'd managed to ask a Gem, Morganite, the frequency code for Earth; she'd told him, pitying his fate. Morty would have to somehow sneak past the barrier without being seen, and reach the control panel across the hallway. Then, open it. He'd slide his finger down the screen two times, slide left once, and enter the code for Earth: 301PX-5. Then leave a message and return to the cell without being seen.

Morty asked him how on Earth was he supposed to do all that. Steven shrugged. "I can make a d-diversion— so the guards will leave."

"What about the wall?" Morty pointed at the light barrier cascading from the ceiling. Steven processed it for a while before grinning, something he hadn't seen him do in a while.

He whispered, suddenly sleepy, "we can — get past it. I just— I didn't show you before... so th— they wouldn't know."

"What will happen to you?"

"It doesn't matter. D—do it."

That same night they took Steven. Morty stayed awake until he just couldn't stand it anymore; the next day, Steven still wasn't there. And the next. And the next. He spent those endless hours thinking of what he'd say, if he even got the chance; this might be his  _only_ chance. By the fourth day, he had a good idea of what to send.

And then, the lights flickered on and off. Red emergency lights flared to life. An Agate — Steven told him that's what they were called — came by in a hurry, barking orders at the cell guards that left the prison immediately, trailing behind her. Morty waited a few moments before daring touch the curtain of light that acted as a wall; his hand phased through it as if it were a waterfall, sending tickles up his arm. He then peeked through, into the hall; it was empty, sirens blaring around. There were countless halls connecting to the corridor; he saw, at the end of it, a closed door, and next to it—

The panel.

Morty rushed towards it, knowing he wouldn't have much time. Slide down twice. Slide right—no, left. A keyboard of sorts appeared on-screen, and his fingers fumbled around, trying to input the code as quickly as possible. He mistyped the first time, resulting in a null code. He tried again.

A tiny  _beep_ somehow made its way through the roar of the sirens. His face appeared on-screen, and he flinched: he looked like shit. Rick would probably  _laugh_ at it. Or, if he actually cared, he'd get shitfaced or something,  _oh so sad_ that Morty had been through so much. Morty hoped he wouldn't, though; Rick blowing up the world with a drunkenly-improvised neutrino bomb wasn't a prospect that he enjoyed.

Morty breathed in, then out. It wasn't the time for that.

Then, he began speaking. The message. The words he'd been practicing in his mind all those days, based on what Steven had gathered and his own recollections, from listening to the guards all day and night.

"We're alive. We're on Nova 17-a." His voice wavered and he looked around, anxiously. A door had opened somewhere, but it wasn't the one next to him. Someone was coming. The footsteps were getting closer and closer. His words began pouring out faster and faster, he couldn't help himself. "Lars is l-lost. T-they have Steven so-somewhere else— if anyone's listening—"

"You  _brat_!" Morty turned around just in time to receive the iron-clad fist of a Quartz to his face. The message was still recording. The message was still—

Another hit and he was out like a light. 

* * *

_"Did it work?"_

_Morty opened his eyes. They sat in front of the ocean, a boundless, blue sky stretching out in front of them. Steven laid next to him, his hand gripping his shoulder desperately, eyes cloudy and unfocused._

_If Morty had looked like shit, then what did Steven look like?_

_He'd asked him a question. A question. It was hard to concentrate. "Did it work?" What worked? Work. Work. The plan. They had a plan. A plan to what? A plan— a plan to call home. To go home. To get out._

_"I-I think so," Morty replied. He looked at Steven, unsure of what was actually happening. If they weren't home, why were they at the beach? It felt like a dream. Maybe it_ was  _a dream. Morty didn't know anymore. "What now?"_

_Steven didn't answer for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. His hands trembled, letting go of his shoulder, letting them sink into the sand. Then, he spoke. "I don't know. We wait. I guess."_

* * *

Morty woke up, but he wasn't in the cell anymore. He was surprised he'd woken up at all. He didn't really know where he was, if he was honest with himself.

Steven wasn't there.

The world felt dizzy. There was a stain of dried blood on the pure white floor. He reached to his forehead, wincing when he made contact with it; his fingertips were stained crimson. Everything hurt, especially his face.

He was alone. Alone in a small, white room. Alone, with no escape.

He hoped it had worked.

He hoped— his message had reached someone.


	6. none of them would let me help them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some are rescued. Some must stay. Some grieve them all. In the end, we all go to hell.

The white room was cold and lonely.

It reminded Morty, somehow, of that time he'd been imprisoned along with other Mortys by the Rick that framed his Rick. It was tense, silent. But there were no Mortys to lead here, no Ricks to rescue. Only himself.

Morty sat there, wondering what had happened. He had the most terrible headache ever; at least he'd stopped bleeding, right? He'd sent the message. He'd been hit until unconscious. He'd... had a dream. About Steven. Maybe it wasn't just a dream — didn't he say something about being an empath? He'd met empaths before, messing with his mind, his memories, until all he could remember was Rick beating him, memories that had never happened but still felt so _real_ and he hid from them, curled up so tiny against the corner of his prison cell and letting out a sound that would've broken even the strongest of men, even as Rick held him close, hands trembling, even as he shied away from his touch all these months later—

The point is, he decides, Steven could have gotten into his mind while he slept. " _I don't know. We wait. I guess._ " That's what Steven had told him to do. But there had to be something else he could do besides just waiting like he was _useless_.

He searched the small room. He inspected every wall, looking for the tiniest crack on the floor or ceiling, looking for a way out, for _anything_ , but it was obvious that it wasn't going to work like that. He felt restless. His headache was killing him, and his body ached like it hadn't ever before, but he kept moving forward. There had to be something.

There wasn't.

Morty shivered; the room had just gone colder. The chilly temperature made his eyes numb, and he rubbed at them before sliding his arms into his shirt. He decided to sit down and rest for a moment; he was going hungry, too, and maybe he just needed to lay down for a while.

He woke up to someone shaking his shoulders. He opened his eyes: it was a Gem. Her short, fluffy pink hair was a bit lighter than the rest of her rose skin, and she wore a soldier's uniform under her dark cloak, with a golden Diamond insignia. The pink Gemstone was placed on her right ear. There was a scar going through her right eye, though it didn't seem to bother her.

"Dude, you with me?" Her voice— huh? Her voice wasn't— it was shrill, sure, but it had a...masculine tinge to it. Earthly, bounding. Morty squinted at... them...? before nodding. He sat up, rubbing his face. "Okay, listen to me— what's your name?"

"...Morty. What's g-going on...?" Morty stretched. His head was still pounding, but at least it wasn't as brutal as before. Who was this person in front of him?

"We got your message," the stranger told him. "I'm Lars."

Lars.

"You're Steven's f-friend," Morty stuttered. The guy nodded, helping him up. He handed him a pair of strange-looking handcuffs.

"Put these on. They're rigged. We're gonna go get you to safety, but we'll have to go through a lot of Gems for that. If you put them on, it'll be easier." Morty slid the cuffs on; they glowed yellow before setting on his wrists. He took his hands out with no real trouble.

"What about Steven?"

Lars looked away. "We're trying to find him. We believe he's on some research facility, but..."

"Human Lars," a tiny voice said then. They both turned to the door (an empty gap on one of the walls): a Pearl was peeking into the room. "You're taking too long."

"I know, Lav. That's Lavender," he added quickly, looking back at Morty. "Come on." He gestured at the human to follow him, fixed the collar of his cloak, and marched out. Morty hurried behind him as the Pearl closed the door.

Deep down, the kid prayed he hadn't made a mistake by accepting their help.

—

Steven's head wasn't clear enough for him to have any idea of what was happening.

He rose his gaze from the floor, strapped against the uncomfortable chair; his head bobbled around as some Gem started barking questions at him. He winced, watching as her fist connected with his cheek before it even happened, and released a cry of pain that wasn't one for help any longer.

The Gem — a Quartz of some sort. She was with a slim Gem... a Peridot? No, the color was all— wrong. A Zircon, he thought. He wasn't sure. All he heard was static, he couldn't really see from his right eye and his left one was too dizzy to really make any sense of it.

The Zircon seemed to realize this, and signaled to the Quartz to stop. They waited for Steven to catch his breath before the smaller Gem grabbed him by the shoulders and hissed a question at him.

" _Where_ are they?," she questioned. He squinted at her, processing the sentence; she pressed the question, clearly distressed. "Talk!"

"Who?" It takes him a long time to even formulate that question. He can't make any sense of anything, how was he supposed to know?

"The other humans, you piece of _chalk_!"

The thought somehow made its way through his mind and everything seemed clear right then.

 _Morty escaped_.

"Hyacinth, move it." The Quartz was growing impatient, and the Zircon could tell. Steven didn't notice.

_Someone heard our message._

"Where are they?," the Zircon shrieked. Steven didn't reply, grinning, and the Gem started to lose it. "Speak!"

"I don't know," he huffed, tiredly, and yet immensely proud.

"Ugh— you're infuriating! Ametrine, please teach this clod some manners."

The Quartz walked forward, and after a few hits against his face, Steven lost consciousness again. It didn't surprise him; he hadn't even resisted. He wasn't strapped against the chair anymore, and instead rested on the porcelain-white floor of a small room. He only had space to walk, if he wanted to, for a few steps to each side before hitting a wall.

He leaned against one of them, trying to clear his head; his thoughts were jumbled, his mind having gone through a vacuum for a couple days now. The diversion to aid in their plan hadn't been too complicated, but after breaking out and running for a while before being captured, his treatment had certainly worsened. And now that Morty was gone, Steven didn't look forward to what would happen.

Unluckily for him, the door opened and the Gem outside signaled at him to come out.

—

Rick stared at the screen on the van's old TV with empty eyes.

" _We're alive. We're on Nova 17-a._ " His grandson was beaten up, bruised, and probably what infuriated Rick the most, fucking _terrified_. But he said nothing. He stared at the TV. His grandson, the dumb idiot, had somehow managed to sneak around and send them a message. With information, valuable priceless information. The kid was trembling, looking around as if someone might catch him; his next words came out in almost a blur, but he managed to make them out. "Lars is l-lost. T-they have Steven so-somewhere else— if anyone's listening—"

" _You_ brat!" Morty whimpered as a Gem struck his face with some sort of iron gauntlet; Rick himself winced at it. The camera or whatever was still on, managing to catch the face of whoever had dared touch him: a purple-ish-yellow-ish, bulky Gem, with her tumbled gemstone placed on her right cheek. Another hit and Morty was down, not even able to defend himself. Blood splattered on the lens of the recording device, obscuring the message just a little.

Another hit and he was out, sprawled onto the floor. The Gem stared at her gauntlets for a moment, at the red liquid dripping from them, before shaking her head and looking straight at the recorder, as if she could see Rick and Pearl through the void of space. She was squinting at the screen, trying to shut it off, when another figure appeared down the hall. The Gem (a Pearl, maybe) quickly headed to the panel and turned the recording off.

Rick stared at the blank screen, frozen. A million thoughts raced through his mind. His hands shook in anger, frustration, desperation maybe? But he didn't care. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuc _k fuck fuc—_

He didn't realize he was yelling before he felt Pearl's arms around him.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He was crying. He pushed her away, rubbing at his own eyes. He cursed one last time before rubbing at his face. He'd fucked up. If he hadn't left Morty behind—

"Rick, listen to me." Pearl was right in front of him again, her hands cupping his face. He flinched away from her, but her grip was stronger, honed by thousands of years of war. She was crying, too, but even as her voice wavered, she spoke. "This is good. We can go exactly where they are now. Your kid is brave, Rick. He'll be okay."

"I s-shouldn't have bailed on him." Rick reached for his flask inside his labcoat, but Pearl stopped his hand before he could chug down whatever liquor was inside it. He glared at her. "Fuck off."

"Don't be like this," Pearl pushed. "We'll find them both. We need to get to work."

Rick hated it when she was right. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hate this chapter almost as much as i hate myself. I had to rewrite it like ten times because the wattpad app kept deleting it. and with me hating life more than ever you can believe me when i tell yall this wasn't a fucking walk in the park even though it's so goddamn horrible and just Bad. 
> 
> But anyway. Lars. In this fic, he's recruited a few extra off-colors during the time he's spent in Homeworld: the first of them is Lavender, a runaway Pearl. Hope you like her as much as I do.
> 
> Also, I don't know where I'm going with this fic. It might take a while for the next one. Haha


	7. the impossible flavor of your own completion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dream-skyping, trans-dimensional-not-worrying, resistance-leading teenagers scare the shit out of me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SORRY THIS CHAPTER IS THREE MONTHS LATE

Connie Maheswaran wakes up on the seashore, cold waves kissing her feet. Somehow, she's already standing up, even though she was sleeping just a moment ago.

It's night. It smells like gas, dust and emergency rooms.

She looks around; it's the beach in front of Steven's home. A storm has suddenly broken out above her head, lightning striking down on the horizon. The sea's grown violent, and she steps back before flinching; the sand is too rocky, and the tiny pieces of dead corals bury themselves into her bare feet.

There's a silhouette within the raging storm. It stands amidst the waves; it doesn't look at her and instead faces the horizon.

"S-steven?" She calls out, her voice small in the pouring rain. She knows it's probably not him— it can't be him. He's— he's in space. Everyone knows that. But then again— how did she even get to the beach?

What will she even  _say_ if it's actually him? I'm sorry? I hate you? I thought you trusted me? What about our training? What about us? We could have done it, why did you surrender? What were you  _thinking_? She's exhausted, she misses him, she—

It turns around. Guess who it is.

"Connie?" His own voice cracks under the weight of something terrible, and all the things she wants to say die in her throat. He looks  _awful,_ scarred and bruised and  _terribly pale_ and like a ghost. His hair is so thin it breaks off as he passes a hand through it, and  _those_ are shaking too, trying to brush off the stream of tears and salt water that fall down his face. "Connie, is— is that you? I can't— I can't s-see you—"

But still, despite the pieces of coral buried on her skin, despite the wind threatening to blow her away and the waves weighing her down, she breaks into a sprint.

"Steven!"

Her arms wrap around him and he weeps. And they spend an eternity like that, not moving, fingers grasping desperately into each other's shoulders.

"What have they  _done_ to you?" Steven looks away, ashamed. "Steven, what— what did they do?"

"I'm—" He immediately starts to stutter, backing away from Connie. He's like a broken record, scratchy and full of noise, static filling his mind and he can't think of anything other than how stupid he was. "I'm s-s-sorry... I just— I was trying to—"

"Steven." She holds onto him even stronger, refusing to let her best friend fade away once more. "Stop. This wasn't— this  _isn't_ your fault!"

Steven just looks at her like she just said the most nonsensical thing in the entire universe and her heart breaks a little more.

"W-what do— ugh," he holds his head in pain, before pretending it was nothing (read: failing at it), "It- it l-literally— I mean— I m-made them d-d-do— do this to— to me."

"What?! No, Steven, that's not— that's not true, I—"

"It— it doesn't— m-matter. I— I need to——" He suddenly groans and falls to his knees, sinking into the sea. He holds his head once more, a dark liquid leaking from between his fingers and Connie really, really hopes that shit isn't blood.

"Steven?" She kneels down too, the waves messing around with her nightgown, and holds her friend steady. "Steven, what's going on?"

"Can't— I-I—— Con—"

And then she wakes up.

She stares at the ceiling, gasping; it's so cold. Slowly, she sits upright, eyes blank, heart racing.

She looks out the window. Soft flurries of ice fall from the dark grey skies. It's the first snow of the season.

She stares at it and tries not to crumble. Somewhere in another galaxy, Steven stares at a wall and tries not to break.

And then she chokes on a curse word, he chokes on a sob, and everything breaks down.

—

When she was younger, Summer used to think she and her little brother would change the world.

They would go on silly adventures over their town. They believed in themselves, in each other. They could do anything, everything, if they stuck together.

Now she was older. Smarter. Her hands were steady when she put on her eyeliner, her eyes cold and focused. Her brother, usually, was an annoyance at best, a fucking dumbass at worst. Like, they both didn't do great at school, but  _she_ was doing it on purpose. Morty was just too slow to get any of it. Even if it was just two plus two and not chemistry or pre-calc. Even with grandpa Rick around, he just couldn't catch up as well. He stuttered, he was clumsy, he was slow, he was just unbearably naive.

But she still cared for him a ton, as he was very dear to her. He, despite it all,  _was_  her little brother.

So a few days go by and Rick and Morty haven't returned. No big deal. She doesn't worry too much, they've gone away on trips for longer. Not even Beth is concerned, but then again she trusts Rick too much. She keeps going to school.

A week. Summer starts to think something might've gone wrong. What if whatever was left of the Federation got them? She texts Morty, despite knowing he won't answer anyway, but what other choice does she have? She glances at the cellphone thingie Rick said was "f-for emergencies only". She can't just call them because she's worried (which she's  _not_ ).

Two weeks. She's growing itchy. Her mom asks her if she knows anything about their current adventure. She denies it. She calls Rick through the emergency line; no reply.

Three weeks. She calls again. No reply.

On the fourth week, something happens. There's not an answer on the stupid phone. Instead, she receives a transmission from a different dimension, one that Rick has saved under the name "crystal assholes". It's a message, though only the audio has made it through. She lets it play; maybe it's them.

Summer stands there, in absolute silence. Her heart seems to stop. The world around her ceases to exist; only the faint message gets through her head. She plays it, over and over and over again, until she understands it completely.  

And it begins with a shuddering breath. Morty's wavering, familiar voice comes out garbled and filled with static; only after her third listen she begins to fully understand what he's saying. " _We're alive. We're on Nova 17-a._ " Footsteps, faint, but still there. The voice speeds up. " _Lars is l-lost. T-they have Steven so-somewhere else— if anyone's listening—_ " Then, an insult. A groan. Something collapsing. And then, after a deafening silence, it loops.

And then, she mutters a single "fuck".

Hours later, when the device has stopped transmitting ages ago, and she's given up hope on calling Rick, she stares at the ceiling in her bedroom and thinks.

Should she tell Beth about it? Would she understand? Would she  _care_? Summer gets the feeling she wouldn't. What about Jerry? Jerry wouldn't get it, most likely; he's too self-centered and just too much of a jerk in general to understand. But then, what is she supposed to do? She can't just go to another dimension, alone, into an alien planet, and rescue her dumb shit of a brother. First of all: she doesn't even have a portal gun. Second of all: where the fuck is Nova 17-shit? Who  _even_ were Steven and whatever-the- _fuck_ was his name?

What the  _fucking fuck_ is she supposed to do?

  —

There's a feeling not everyone understands. Something that can only be truly discovered once you care for someone younger.

Lars has always cared, but not too much. Despite what anyone might think, he is  _not_ a complete idiot. He might be an asshole, sure. He might be a fucking whiny bitch sometimes. He can be mind-blowingly naive and not notice when someone's giving him clear signs right under his nose. But he knows damn well when someone's been shattered into pieces. He's always known. He knows it now, the way they'll hide between supply crates in a storage room, curled up against themselves.

Things have changed for him these last few weeks. He  _thinks_  they've been weeks, at least; Gems don't have those, or days. They just say shit like "half a cycle" or "two micro-cycles". What the fuck, Gems. Anyway, things have changed so much. In the span of just one month, he'd died, been resurrected like some sort of zombie, turned into the commander of a small resistance in an alien world, and even lead some attacks for resources. Their numbers grew more every day, and maybe one of these days they'll actually contact Earth. Maybe... maybe they'll make a dent in Homeworld.

At first, Lars didn't understand. For years, he didn't need to understand. But now, watching over Morty, looking desperately for Steven, he thinks he gets it now. That feeling overpowers any fear, any pain; it pushes him to go forward and keep trying his best.

For their sake, he has to.

He sighs, leans against Lavender's shoulder. Morty hasn't moved from his spot yet, so Pad cuddles up against him, trying to give him some sort of moral support. Despite everything, they can't do much but wait, until some informant spills the beans on Steven's location. He glances at the holographic screens and stares blankly at the information they display; he wishes he at least understood the Gem language better.

"It'll be all right, human Lars," Lavender whispers. Her short, dark hair tickles his neck, but he doesn't reply, at least not immediately.

"I'm just— worried, you know? We gotta prepare for another supply run, but Rutile and Rhodonite still haven't come back, and Fluorite hasn't even reported back in, and Steven's— I don't even know if he's alive, dude." Lars rubs his eyes. "And I can't even sleep it out like our little friend right there."

Morty shuffles in his 'sleep' and Lars pretends he hasn't noticed.

"But it'll be okay," the pearl insists. "I might not be much help, but you know I'm right. We just need more time, and just a little luck."

To be honest, Lars doesn't really know anything anymore. But hearing her say that does make him feel better.

"I hope you're right," he says, "but at this rate, we're gonna need more than just a little luck."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprise, bitch. i bet you thought you'd seen the last of me.  
> this chapter AS YOU CAN PROBABLY GUESS was so fucking hard to write. my mental health was really terrible these last months, and i've barely been able to focus on school (i mean it. i'm failing shit) so the fact that this came out SEMI COHERENT is something i'm very proud of?  
> next week i'm gonna be studying for finals, and the other week ARE my finals, so i'll be seeing you probably by the end of january... probably.  
> happy new year! i wish you all the best 2018. let's hope it doesn't suck like the past two hellscapes  
> anyway enjoy!


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